


Kiss Or Dare

by paintingbellarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Drunk Bellamy, Drunk Clarke, Drunk!Clarke, F/M, Fluff, Hurt, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Protective Bellamy, Sad Clarke, Truth or Dare, drunk truth or dare, drunk!bellamy, post 1x05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintingbellarke/pseuds/paintingbellarke
Summary: Clarke stormed off, through the gates, into the dark of Earth’s starry night. She didn’t care if grounders found her, hell, she wanted them to. She wanted them to find her and torture her, to bring her a different pain then the hell she was living in at the dropship. She was stumbling over rocks and plants and roots. It was too dark to see where she was going, but she didn’t care. Her head was pounding, her heart was tearing, and her mind was going a mile a minute. Finn had told her that he cared about her, he had slept with her. He was nice and caring and loving. But he had a girlfriend in space, and Clarke didn’t know about her, and she was here now. And seeing them was torture. She caught glimpses of them leaning into each other while she was trying to be someone’s doctor, she heard their laughter while she was trying to give orders, and she couldn’t take it anymore.  She was so caught up in the glimpses of memories of Finn and Raven that she barely heard the soft and cautious “Princess?”, so out of place that she wasn’t sure if she was going insane or not.--aka clarke is broken up over finn and raven so bellamy comforts her, which turns into a relationship between the coleaders





	1. Midnight Forrest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClarkeGriffinTitties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarkeGriffinTitties/gifts).



> this is for julia (http://clarkegriffinfrostedtitties.tumblr.com/) as a celebration for her reaching 1k followers!! i love julia so much. she has inspired me and made me so much more confident in my writing and creations than i ever thought i could be. julia, you're amazing. you're too nice to me and you inspire me to actually WRITE. thank you.
> 
> this is gonna be a multi chapter fic, idk how many. julia has persuaded me to make it longer.

Clarke stormed off, through the gates, into the dark of Earth’s starry night. She didn’t care if grounders found her, hell, she  _ wanted  _ them to. She wanted them to find her and torture her, to bring her a different pain then the hell she was living in at the dropship. She was stumbling over rocks and plants and roots. It was too dark to see where she was going, but she didn’t care. Her head was pounding, her heart was tearing, and her mind was going a mile a minute. Finn had told her that he cared about her, he had  _ slept _ with her. He was nice and caring and loving. But he had a girlfriend in space, and Clarke didn’t know about her, and she was here now. And seeing them was torture. She caught glimpses of them leaning into each other while she was trying to be someone’s doctor, she heard their laughter while she was trying to give orders, and she couldn’t take it anymore. So she left, and she didn’t know where she was going. She was so caught up in the glimpses of memories of Finn and Raven that she barely heard the soft and cautious “Princess?”, so out of place that she wasn’t sure if she was going insane or not.

She barely registered the tears that started falling until they landed on her parted mouth, leaving the salty taste on her tongue. She wiped her sleeve over her eyes and sniffled before turning around, facing whoever was interrupting her wallowing time. She was pissed at life, and whoever this was better be the nicest person alive if they didn’t want an angry Clarke screaming in their face.

When she saw it was Bellamy, her face hardened. “What do you want?” She asked coldly, tucking away her sadness into the small corner of her mind where it stayed most of the time.

“I just-” he sighed. “I don’t know why I’m here. I wanted to check on you, I guess.” He admitted it begrudgingly, and Clarke took a minute to think about what that meant. He was the only one who came out to check on her. Her mind started to clear a bit and she dropped her hard stance, letting her shoulder fall and exhaling. She studied the softness of his features, barely seeing him in the black of night. One side of his mouth was drooping down a little bit, his mouth tight, but it was different from the stern frown he wore most of the time. His brows weren’t  _ furrowed _ , they weren’t angry, but they seemed frustrated. His cheekbones were more prominent and Clarke saw it was because he was sucking in a breathe. She saw him swallow, almost nervously, and she remembered it was her turn to respond.

“Oh. Um, thanks,” she mumbled, trying her best to be polite. She sat down on a branch, quietly remarking that she had almost tripped over it on her way out here. Bellamy gave her a small laugh, and she could swear she might have almost seen the hints of a smile. She motioned for Bellamy to sit next to her with a soft smile of her own.

Before he sat down, he removed a backpack Clarke hadn’t noticed before, and set it by his feet. Once he found a comfortable position on the rough branch, he unzipped his bag and started rummaging through it. Clarke tried to subtly peak over his shoulder, but couldn’t see what he was reaching for. He set a lantern down on the grass below them. He turned to her with a smug grin and pulled two objects from his bag, quickly concealing them behind his back before she had a chance to look at them. She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Pick a hand,” he said. She quickly processed this game he was playing. She turned her body to face him and he mirrored her, their knees brushing for a split second, and heat rushed to Clarke’s cheeks. She quickly composed herself and took a breathe in, then tapped the heavy fabric on his right arm. 

“That one.” He pulled out an oversized jacket, identical to his own. 

“You came out here in a t-shirt. It’s freezing out,” he explained sheepishly, and she smiled at his lack of his usual tough-guy facade. 

“Thank you,” she replied softly, and he looked relieved. Bellamy clumsily tried to use his one hand to drape the thick jacket over her shoulders. She laughed and pushed her arms through the jacket, smiling at the warmth it brought. After zipping up the jacket she turned back to him. 

“What’s in the other hand?”

“I think you’ll like this one better.” He pulled a jar of clear liquid out from behind his back and Clarke’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Moonshine?” She asked, and he nodded and grinned. She smiled and grabbed the jar, taking a sip, wincing at the sour taste. 

“Monty still hasn’t perfected it. But it’ll do the job,” Bellamy explained. She nodded and took another sip before passing it to him. 

“Cheers,” he said and drank. 

 

——

 

Clarke didn’t know how long they’d been away from camp. All she knew was she was here with Bellamy. They had moved to sit cross legged on the ground after Bellamy had commented, slurring, about how uncomfortable and scratchy the fallen branch was. 

“Truth,” Bellamy said, responding to her earlier question. They had been playing truth or dare for a while, getting increasingly drunk. 

“Why do you act all tough? You’re a softie. I can tell,” Clarke said and playfully shoved his shoulder. 

Bellamy shrugged. 

“I’m only like that with people I care about,” he said, and quickly realized what he just admitted. Heat rose to both of their cheeks, and Clarke made eye contact with him, smiling softly.

“I care about you too.” They held eye contact for a beat too long, Bellamy breaking away sheepishly first, before clearing his throat and continuing the game.

“Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.”

“Next time you see the person you’re most attracted to from the group, kiss them.” It was a simple dare, and Bellamy announced it as such, calm between slurred drunken words. Clarke inhaled sharply. She had to process it quickly, cover up her reaction. She had to keep her face straight, calm, hide the dozens of emotions that begged to play on her face. Bellamy continued talking without hesitation, rambling, and Clarke sighed, knowing he hadn’t noticed. “Unless it’s that Collins bloke. Not him. Don’t kiss him, Clarke.” He looked deep in thought as he talked, but her voice pulled him back.

“Truth or dare, Bellamy?”

“Truth.”

With his answer, she had to decide. Follow his dare, and if he said no, play it off as that she’s had too many drinks of the sharp moonshine, or make up a different question and kiss a random delinquent the next time she saw one that she could conclude was relatively attractive. But he was looking at her softly, and Clarke was convinced that she was in a dream. His eyes were too hopeful, his shoulders were leaning in a little closer than normal, and his knees were inches away from hers. It couldn’t be real. So she decided,  _ fuck it _ , and asked.

“Can I kiss you?” The corners of her mouth flicked upwards as she spoke. He broke into a lopsided grin and nodded.

“Yes.”

And suddenly her hands were cupping his face, his rough stubble pressing against her skin, and his hand was on her thigh, and they were inches apart. If Clarke thought having their knees brush occasionally sent sparks through her, having them practically pressed together was sending fire through her flood. Every place his skin connected with hers was tingling and sparking. Her fingertips and palms, her thighs and knees, all burning hot against him. 

Their foreheads were touching now, pressing against each other, eyes searching. She had expected something different, rougher. She had expected to be pushed down against the dirt, leaves and twigs getting in her hair, rough. But the way Bellamy was holding her to him was anything but. His eyes were soft and loving looking into hers, he had a hand stroking her hair gently, and his nose brushed hers occasionally with a soft nudge. 

“You sure this is okay?” With his question she practically melted, knowing that even in their tipsy state, so many emotions rushing through the both of them, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable. 

With a quick nod and a flicker of a smile, she leaned into him. Her eyes fell shut, heavy with affection, and she felt his eyelashes brush against her eyelids as he shut his. She kissed him with slightly parted lips, chapped and uncared for down on Earth. She was suddenly self conscious of the fact that she hasn’t showered in god knows how long, and her hair was getting nasty, and she smelled and she hadn’t brushed her teeth since the Ark. But as he pushed against her, parting his lips, all of her worries slipped away. She was with Bellamy, his hand was squeezing her thigh, she had a hand on his chest. He wrapped his free arm around the small of her back, lowering her to the least-rocky patch they had quick access to in the forest. In the forest where Clarke had run to find comfort alone, away from the camp, by herself. But she wasn’t alone, she never was. She had Bellamy. He was making it pretty clear that she’d never be alone again, with the way he was biting her lip and squeezing her waist. 

“Do you wanna-”

“Yeah,” Clarke breathed out between kisses, and she was pulling at the hem of his shirt. He was staring into her eyes, sometimes letting his gaze drop to her swollen lips, and he smiled at her. 

“Clarke, I don’t wanna, like, take advantage of the fact that you’re tipsy, or that you’re distraught over Finn. And if we’re gonna do this, you should know, I like… care about you. I dunno,” he was blushing now, eyes not meeting hers. He was leaning on his elbow and he pushed his hair back sheepishly.

“Bellamy,” she whispered, “I’m not that tipsy. I’m okay to say yes. And I care about you too.” She placed a soft and tender kiss on his pink lips, grinning against him as she felt him do the same.

“Oh. Okay, good.” He was shy with his answer, but then he was kissing her again, getting more passionate with each beat of Clarke’s thumping heart. They lost themselves in each other, clothes being pulled off, skin being explored. And Clarke felt safe again. 


	2. I'll Fight For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clarke woke up, she was alone. Her eyes were still closed and she was laying on Bellamy's t-shirt, smiling at the thought that he left it for her so she wouldn't get dirty. She sat up quickly, glancing around for him, to ask him to lay down with her a bit longer, but he wasn’t there. She knew she had to go back to the dropship, focus on making contact with the Ark, so she forced herself to pull on her discarded clothes and pack up Bellamy’s shirt and the now-empty jar of moonshine in the backpack Bellamy had brought out last night.  
> Starting the short walk back, Clarke thought about what she would say to Bellamy. Be her normal, snarky self, playfully teasing him, or be affectionate, leaning into him and casting him smiles and soft glances, letting herself fall close to him. She wondered how he would act, whether he meant what he said last night or if he had just had too much to drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I still love Julia so Imma still write :)

When Clarke woke up, she was alone. Her eyes were still closed and she was laying on Bellamy's t-shirt, smiling at the thought that he left it for her so she wouldn't get dirty. She sat up quickly, glancing around for him, to ask him to lay down with her a bit longer, but he wasn’t there. She knew she had to go back to the dropship, focus on making contact with the Ark, so she forced herself to pull on her discarded clothes and pack up Bellamy’s shirt and the now-empty jar of moonshine in the backpack Bellamy had brought out last night.  
Starting the short walk back, Clarke thought about what she would say to Bellamy. Be her normal, snarky self, playfully teasing him, or be affectionate, leaning into him and casting him smiles and soft glances, letting herself fall close to him. She wondered how he would act, whether he meant what he said last night or if he had just had too much to drink.  
The worries occupied her mind the whole walk back, and she sighed once she reached the edge of camp. Pushing the doors open, she headed directly into the dropship at the back of camp, ignoring her friends’ “where were you last night’s” and “we were worried’s” and “are you okay?’s.” She felt bad, but she didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. She couldn’t, not until she talked to Bellamy.  
To her surprise, when she pushed back the cloth that served as a doorway to the dropship and took a step in, he was there. He was sitting with Monroe and a few others in the back of the room. With the way his brows were furrowed and his eyes were squinted and his mouth was tilted downwards at the corners in either frustration or thought, she could tell he was forming some sort of plan. His gaze flicked upwards, and she could tell the moment he saw her because his entire face lit up. He raised his eyebrows and softened his stance, letting his shoulders drop, and he gave her this grin and she almost melted. She gave him a smile and, after checking that no one needed medical attention, walked over to him.  
“Hi.”  
“Hey.” The way he said it was soft and affectionate, and she was grinning. Suddenly he was standing, towering over her, close enough that she could close her eyes and imagine they were back in the forest, them finding comfort in each other. But they weren’t in the forest, they were at camp, with everything she had been trying to run away from. She sighed and looked up at him, meeting his eyes, searching. He took a step, impossibly closer, and grabbed one of her hands.  
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered it with raised eyebrows, perfectly mirroring her last night, and she smiled, nodded with a soft “yes,” and she didn’t care that they were in front of everyone in the dropship, could be attacked by grounders at any moment, because he was nudging her nose with his and cupping her face with his free hand. He placed a small and affectionate kiss on her lips before turning back to the group of makeshift warriors, continuing his plan effortlessly, ignoring their confused looks. “Okay, so, we need more weapons.”  
They moved to sit down again, cross legged on the cold hard floor. Bellamy was talking about his plan to defend the camp against grounders, and Clarke was only barely listening, instead leaning on his shoulder and listen to the sound of his voice rather than the words he was saying. She sat like that the whole time, under his arm, and let her eyes drift shut. Bellamy pressed a kiss to the top of her head, on her dirty hair. As he did, Finn walked into the dropship. Clarke didn’t realize until she opened her eyes to turn to give Bellamy a smile that Finn was standing in the doorway, mouth agape slightly, standing in place, almost frozen. She met his eyeline, watching his eyes dart between her and Bellamy, and she narrowed her eyes and gave him a innocent, puzzled look, daring him to say something. Bellamy must have felt Clarke tense under his arm because he turned to her, a concerned expression on his face.  
“What’s wro-” he followed Clarke’s hard gaze to Finn in the doorway, and his face hardened. “Collins. What do you want?” His voice was cold as he asked, and Finn shook himself back to reality.  
“I, um… was coming to check on Clarke. I heard she got back.” He was taking involuntary steps backwards, obviously scared of Bellamy, flustered. “I see she’s in good hands,” he said quietly. Finn looked down sheepishly, embarrassed.  
“Yeah, thanks. I am,” Clarke assured him, smirking. She pulled Bellamy closer to her and gave him an affectionate peck on the lips. When she turned around to look at Finn again, all she saw was the flash of gray as he walked out of the dropship in a hurry. Bellamy let out a laugh which turned into a smug grin.  
“Serves him right,” he said. She leaned in and pulled him into a hug, sighing into his shoulder. Bellamy turned to continue talking to the group of teenage warriors, barely getting a few words out before Jasper came running in, out of breathe.  
“Octavia’s missing.” He announced it with worry in his voice. It was Bellamy’s turn to go rigid beside Clarke, his eyes were wide with panic, and he was grabbing at Clarke’s hand. She laced her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze.  
“What do you mean, missing? It’s Octavia. She’s probably just hanging out outside of camp. She does that.” Clarke was overcompensating with her words, trying to keep her voice steady for Bellamy. She knew how easily he would fall apart if everyone else did.  
“That’s what we thought, but she usually comes back in the morning if she goes out. We had Finn go out and he found tracks, so we’re going out to look for her. I assume you guys wanna come?” Jasper cocked his head to the side as he asked. Clarke was nodding, ready to go help find her, but Bellamy was too quick. He was putting a hand on her shoulder and taking a step in front of her. She looked up at him in confusion. He was shaking his head no, eyes slightly watery, and Clarke gave him a questioning look.  
“It’s dangerous out there. I can’t- if O’s… I can’t lose you too,” he said quietly, not meeting Clarke’s eyes. She wanted to argue, telling him she could take care of herself, he didn’t need to worry about her. But when she forced him to look at her, she saw the begging in his brown eyes, the worry for his sister, the need to protect Clarke. She quickly pulled him to her, and stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.  
“Okay. I’ll stay here. Someone’s gotta be in charge while you’re gone.” The corner of her mouth flicked up and he looked at her appreciatively.  
“Wait, what the hell did I miss? Don’t you guys hate each other?” Jasper asked, and Clarke only shrugged.  
“Things change.”  
“Oh, gross, you guys totally did it.” It was so Jasper that Clarke let out a laugh and couldn’t help a grin. It had been awhile since they got to see him be purely himself after getting stabbed, and Clarke was proud of herself. She had healed him without her mother’s help.  
She felt Bellamy compose himself next to her, standing tall, like a leader. “Jasper, get Finn. He’s the best tracker we’ve got. You, me, and him will go out and look for her. We have to keep the search party small, can’t attract attention from the Grounders.” Bellamy was nodding as he talked, furrowing his brows.  
“How long will you be gone?” Clarke asked, her voice wavering slightly. She didn’t know why, but the idea of the three of them out trying to find Octavia concerned her. She didn’t know if she was more scared of the Grounders getting them or Bellamy hurting Finn. And, no, Clarke didn’t like Finn, but she didn’t want him dead, especially by the hands of Bellamy.  
“We’ll be back by dark. Nothing’s gonna happen,” Bellamy assured her. Clarke let her head fall, let herself be embraced by him. She nodded into his shoulder.  
“Jasper, go find Finn. Monroe, get me three guns and a few rounds. The rest of you can continue building that wall.” When he was done talking, the crowd dispersed instantly, scrambling to follow Bellamy, their leader. Soon they were alone in the dropship, and Clarke pulled herself up.  
“They listen to you,” she said matter-of-factly. It wasn’t accusing or harsh like it could’ve been a few days ago. Instead, she said it almost proudly, with a smile.  
Bellamy smiled at her. “I know. Sometimes it’s a lot of work.”  
“Is it worth it?” Clarke questioned softly, wanting to know more about how he felt about his position in the camp. He nodded.  
“Overall it is. They listen to you too, Clarke.” He said it with certainty, and she let herself smile.  
“Please be safe out there. Can’t have you getting hurt.”  
He smiled back at her. “I won’t, Princess.”  
Clarke pulled him to her, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She closed her eyes as he did the same. He wrapped her arms around her, on the small of her back, and she lay hers over his shoulders. Bellamy was taking steps forward, backing her against the wall, parting his lips. She felt her back press against the steel walls of the dropship. She was overwhelmed by the scent of him, the feeling of his hands on her back.  
She was biting at his lower lip, a hand making its way into his hair, pulling slightly. When he reacted by pulling her closer possessively, she grinned against his lips.  
“I wish we had more time before you go,” she whispered against him, breathy.  
“Me too, princess.” He sighed, pulling her back in for another deep kiss. After another few minutes filled with Bellamy whispering sweet nothings against Clark’s lips, jawline, and the sensitive spot beneath her ear, Clarke melting with each breath she felt against her, he reluctantly pulled away. “I gotta go. I don’t want Jasper walking in on us kissing. Or worse, Finn.” He cocked his head to the side.  
Clarke let her eyes drift open with a sigh, letting her hand intertwine with his, rubbing his soft skin with her thumb. “Please be safe.” No matter how many times she said it, she would always feel the need to tell him again. She watched him nod, met his eyeline, looked into his caring eyes.  
“I will be.”


	3. Dead Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke spent the day learning other delinquent's stories. She learned that Miller was locked up for theft, trying to gather supplies for a date with his boyfriend, and that Murphy set fire to a guard’s quarters. She easily told the story of her own solitude on the Ark, her time alone in the skybox. It felt like a dream now, the year she spent with nothing and no one. She told the others of how she almost lost her voice and only realized it after trying to talk again after 3 months. She had spent her early days crying and screaming and fighting, trying to get her calls loud enough to warn the others, but no one ever heard her in the deafening silence of the skybox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is angsty. also I know it might be cliche to switch Bellamy and Finn's places, but since this fic is for Julia and she suggested it I'm doin it. TW: Injuries (it's when Finn gets stabbed by Lincoln.) Nothing really graphic tho.

Clarke spent the day learning other delinquent's stories. She learned that Miller was locked up for theft, trying to gather supplies for a date with his boyfriend, and that Murphy set fire to a guard’s quarters. She easily told the story of her own solitude on the Ark, her time alone in the skybox. It felt like a dream now, the year she spent with nothing and no one. She told the others of how she almost lost her voice and only realized it after trying to talk again after 3 months. She had spent her early days crying and screaming and fighting, trying to get her calls loud enough to warn the others, but no one ever heard her, but no one ever heard her in the deafening silence of the skybox. 

The gray walls eventually started to fade together as she lost track of time, only realizing how close she was to her 18th birthday when a nice guard listened to her begs, gave in and told her the date. She spent the next few months thinking over everything she’d done in her life, missing her friends, her teachers, her family. She drew everywhere. During a 6-month check up from Jackson, she realized that he had slipped her some pencils, a few pieces of gum, and a note which read “I miss you - mom.” Only after looking closer she realized the note was stained with tears that soon mixed with her own. She talked about the horror she felt when the guards came in, calling for her to stand up, grabbing at her, the memory of kicking and fighting and calling that  _ she wasn’t 18 yet _ . The makeshift calendar on the wall seemed to stare back at her numbly, and she was convinced she counted wrong until she saw her mother. Abby was reaching for Clarke and they fell into each other. There were whispers of promises and  _ I love you’s _ before Clarke felt a pain in her back and blacked out.

When Clarke finally looked up at everyone who was sharing stories, they looked at her in horror. There was a long, exaggerated beat before Clarke cleared her throat and stood up. She made her way to her tent without a word. As soon as she pushed past the red fabric that blocked off her tent, she broke down. Collapsing onto her cot, she melted into silent sobs, her heart hurting. It ached for every member of the 100 they had lost, for Wells, for Charlotte, for her father. Her bones set on fire for the memory of her mother, they burned with the feeling of betrayal.

The tears eventually dried up and Clarke was left alone, numbness overtaking her. She realized that she hadn’t cried since they got to the ground. Despite everything, she had kept it together, surviving by numbing herself and blocking out the pain and fear and loss, trying to forget about everything besides surviving. But as she told the story of her lockup, the dull gray she had covered her memories with began to peel off and she felt all of the emotion that she had pushed away. It hit her too hard, and she yearned for someone to hold her and tell her that she was going to be okay, that everything would be fine.

The fabric of her cot was usually itchy, and Clarke never wanted to lay here because of it, but she could barely feel the rough fabric under her numb, tired skin as she lay in her tent. She lay still and waited until someone would come snap her out of it.

\--

It was Miller who came to get her, calling “Clarke” and running around to try and find her. She closed her eyes tight and willed him to go away, to let her be. It wasn’t until she heard the other calls of her name that she started to sit up slowly, until she heard the  _ helps _ that she stood up and was taking urgent steps outside, and it wasn’t until she heard Fox’s cry of “Oh my god, Bellamy” that Clarke was sprinting across camp to the huddled group of delinquents, pushing her way through. 

“Move. Get out of my way,  _ move! _ ” Clarke was putting hands on shoulders, shoving her way to the front, where she saw a panting Finn supporting Bellamy. He was hunched over, hand over his abdomen, and it took Clarke a minute to process what the red was that was staining his shirt.

“Who… Who’s blood is that?” She was asking quietly, and no one heard her. Her body wasn’t reacting quick enough for her mind, her hands weren’t going where she wanted them to, her feet were planted in the dirt.  _ Why did Bellamy have a knife in his stomach? _

It took Jasper grabbing Clarke, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing until she looked him in the eye for her to realize that  _ she _ was the medic they were calling for help. 

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do. I need my mother.” The words were directed to the wind. Her mother wasn’t here, she was in space, hundreds of miles away. She needed those damn radios working. She couldn’t take care of Bellamy alone.

“Yeah, well, the radios aren’t working.” It was Raven who was next to Clarke. Clarke made a sour face before realizing that she had been talking aloud. She turned to Raven, eyes determined.

“I need you to fix them. If I can’t talk to my mother, get her help, Bellamy will…” she trailed off, couldn’t say it, and Raven gave her a knowing look. The girl nodded and her jaw clenched, thinking of ideas for the radio.

“Okay, um, Miller, Murphy, Finn, get him in the dropship. I need cloths and clean water.” Her orders became loud and clear as she composed herself. Bellamy’s life depended on her, and she wasn’t going to let him go.

All she could do was hurry to the dropship, the sound of her steps changing from the soft muffled sound of stepping on dirt to the sharp ones of her shoes on the steel floor. The sounds echoed through her brain, filling up her thoughts as she tried to remember what she'd learned in her training. She decided after looking at him on the makeshift counter of the dropship that she couldn't take the knife out. There was no way of knowing where it was hitting. She was blocking out the sounds of Raven calling out on the radio, delinquents fighting, rain on the metal ship, and tried to focus on Bellamy.

“Bell? How are you?” It was with a soft, nursing voice that Clarke asked, leaning down to Bellamy’s head.

“I feel like I’m dying,” he said with a wince. “At least we got to spend a night together before I’m gone.” He laughed softly, but it was an empty sound that terrified Clare.

“Shut up. You’re not dying.” It was as much to reassure herself as him. “Harper, c’mere and help me hold pressure. Don’t move the knife, though.” Harper hurried over and took the towel Fox had been holding to Bellamy’s wound, letting the younger girl go. There were teenagers everywhere, in Clarke’s space, running into Harper, knocking into Raven and her tools for fixing the radio. When a dark haired boy banged into a bucket of water, sending it spilling down both hers and Harpers legs and getting on Bellamy’s abdomen, she lost it.

“Damn it! Murphy, I need you to clear the room! I can’t focus. Get everyone outside!”

“No can do, doc. There’s a storm outside.” He turned to her then glanced down at Bellamy, and his face softened. He sighed before suggesting, “I can try getting them all upstairs.” With that, he started leading kids up the ladder, clearing up Clarke’s space. She looked at Bellamy, who was pale and breathing shallowly, oblivious to the chaos in the dropship. He looked like he was circling the drain.

“Gimme a kiss before I go, Princess.” He was blinking away tears as he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You are  _ not _ dying,” she said it with certainty, but leaned down anyways. He painfully tilted his head up and winced. Her hands were in his hair as she cradled his face and touched her forehead to his. He smelled like sweat and blood, and she didn’t want to know how long he’d been drenched in sweat and in pain before he got here, so she blocked it out and pressed her mouth to his. Bellamy was crying now, and he didn’t know if it was from pain or the thought of the fact that he was dying. He focused on holding Clarke to him, inhaling her earthy scent, trying to focus on imprinting her in his memory. He vaguely heard someone respond on the radio and smiled against Clarke’s lips before succumbing to the pain in his stomach and passed out.

\--

Bellamy woke up to a new sharp, piercing, hot pain in his abdomen, felt a small hand next to his wound, heard soft whispers of “I’m so sorry, it’ll be over soon,” and felt whatever he had been stabbed with being pulled out. He couldn’t keep in his scream and he was writhing in pain, causing whoever was pulling out the knife to stop with a sharp “damn it!”

A static-filled voice came over the speakers in the dropship. “Clarke, what is it?” A woman's voice, held together but laced with concern.

“He- he woke up.” Clarke. She was there. She was leaning down, so close he could feel her warm breath on his sweaty cheek, and he was relieved. “Bellamy, it’s okay. The radio’s working. Raven got it working. My mom’s walking me- she’s telling me how to fix this,” she said with a shaky voice. 

“Clarke?” His voice was quiet, tired, and it was scary to Clarke. He was never like this. 

“Hm? I’m here. What do you need?”

“It hurts.” He tried to smile at her, but it was weak, and she just reached over and pushed back a shaggy curl of his hair. 

“I know. It’s almost over. This is the hard part.” Her voice was filled with silent apologies, and he nodded at her. He knew this was going to hurt like hell. “You can’t move, Bell. It’ll be really bad if you do. Just look at me.” She kissed his forehead before moving back to his stomach. “Hold him down,” she quietly instructed to people Bellamy couldn’t see. He was too focused on looking at Clarke, didn’t flinch when he felt hands on every limb and on his torso, he just stared at her face. He looked at her hair, the slope of her nose, her eyes. She passed him another sad, apologetic look before saying, “I’m ready, mom. Extracting now.”

Everything moved slowly as he felt the white-hot pain again. He was screaming and trying to fight the hands holding him to the table, his eyes were searching for Clarke, but everything was fuzzy with his tears, and he resorted to closing his eyes and focusing on his memories of her. He heard her calls of “almost out” and “keep him still,” heard her sobs as she tried to keep her hands still, and it was that much harder on him to stay conscious. 


	4. Don't Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy woke up slowly and hazily, slowly letting his eyes drift open. He felt a hand holding his, small and comforting, and breaths on his neck. He turned his head and was met with Clarke asleep. She was frowning slightly, but her features were soft. Her hair was messy and there was sweat on her forehead. He picked his head up slightly and looked over the table he was laying on, noticing that Clarke was seated next to it and just had her head laying on the table, rested on her arms. He felt guilty about how uncomfortable the position must be to sleep in, and slowly nudged her awake.  
> “Bell?” Her eyes were lazy with sleep as they opened, her voice soft, and she seemed to have momentarily forgotten what had happened. As his eyes met hers, and he forgot too, was wrapped up in the domestic feeling of waking up next to her. He leaned over to press a kiss to her lips, but only moved an inch before the pain in his stomach brought back everything that happened the day earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being MIA. Here's a longer chap to make up for it! I was in a slump and needed a break from lots of stuff, but now I'm back. See end notes for warnings.

Bellamy woke up slowly and hazily, slowly letting his eyes drift open. He felt a hand holding his, small and comforting, and breaths on his neck. He turned his head and was met with Clarke asleep. She was frowning slightly, but her features were soft. Her hair was messy and there was sweat on her forehead. He picked his head up slightly and looked over the table he was laying on, noticing that Clarke was seated next to it and just had her head laying on the table, rested on her arms. He felt guilty about how uncomfortable the position must be to sleep in, and slowly nudged her awake.  
“Bell?” Her eyes were lazy with sleep as they opened, her voice soft, and she seemed to have momentarily forgotten what had happened. As his eyes met hers, and he forgot too, was wrapped up in the domestic feeling of waking up next to her. He leaned over to press a kiss to her lips, but only moved an inch before the pain in his stomach brought back everything that happened the day earlier.  
Clarke immediately noticed his wince, saw the pain come over his face, and quickly stood up. “Bellamy. Where does it hurt?” She asked in her doctor voice.  
“Everywhere,” he said. She frowned at him as a tear passed quickly over his face. He looked up at her with worried eyes, and she knelt beside him. “What time is it?”  
“It’s late. Everyone’s asleep.”  
He did a quick scan of the room and saw one gunman asleep slouched in a chair by the entrance before looking back up at Clarke, his expression slightly different.  
“Kiss me, princess.”  
She let out a strangled, choked noise from deep in her throat, and practically climbed on top of Bellamy while being careful of his wound. She felts his arms wrap around her small frame and she sighed happily before picking up her head and nudging his nose with hers. Their eyes met, and they both had an overwhelming feeling of safety. The world melted away. Grounders, food, being in charge, Bellamy’s wound, it all fell apart when they were in each other's arms, when they saw each other’s eyes. She leaned down to spare him the trouble of lifting his head up and placed a tender kiss to his lips, before moving to pepper soft kisses to his bottom lip and the corners of his mouth. Her relief at seeing him alive translated into the kisses, her salty tears landing between their lips.  
They eventually tired of kissing, and Bellamy softly guided her head back with a strong hand on her cheek. “Will you let me just… hold you?” He asked, carefully, like she was a deer in the headlights. A smile broke out over face and she nodded before burrowing her head into his shoulder. Their position wasn’t the most comfortable, with Bellamy not being able to move or turn and Clarke fitting half on Bellamy and half on the table. Her legs were draped over his so they wouldn’t be dangling off, and they found themselves intertwined. Bellamy was positioned straight on his back so that the wound could heal, and he was smack dab in the middle of the table, which left Clarke with barely anywhere to go except nestled right against him, on her side, arm draped over his chest. She found herself tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers until he fell asleep.  
When his breathing and heart rate slowed, she felt safe enough to let herself drift. She pressed a lazy kiss to his shoulder, salty and sweaty from the trauma of the day, before falling asleep in his arms.

\-----

Clarke was shaken awake violently. She was dazed and still tired when she woke up, and almost fell off the table, forgetting how little space she had. Her attention quickly turned to Bellamy, who was shaking beside her. The world slowed again, the feeling of safety she had with him gone, stolen away from her in the night. Things clicked into place and she recognized the seizure, the foaming at his mouth, eyes rolled back.  
“Miller!” She called for help, and when he appeared, he rushed over.  
“Roll him on his side. Quick,” she said. They both pushed him over, Clarke’s hands on his shoulders and Miller’s on his back and legs. The fluid dripped from his mouth and she was shushing into his ear, dabbing at his face with a cloth. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be over soon,” she whispered to him.  
“What happened? Didn’t you get the knife out fine? Your mom said he’d be okay-” He was trying to hold Bellamy steady while asking her, eyes drilling hers.  
“I don’t know, Miller! I… I did everything right! I cleaned everything. This shouldn’t be happening.” She was panicking. Bellamy finally stopped shaking, and she rushed to his head, pressing the cold cloth to his forehead. “He has a fever. This wasn’t from us not sterilizing. This was poison.” Miller’s eyes darted up to hers, and she frowned at him before turning back to Bellamy.  
“You’re saying it was the grounder?” he asked while laying Bellamy back down.  
“Who else could it be? We can send Octavia to find him. Get the antidote,” she said, and Miller gave her a hard, questioning look.  
“Bellamy wouldn’t approve.” Their eyes both darted down to the boy on the table between them. She looked back up at Miller with a daring look of her own.  
“I don’t care. If we don’t get the antidote, he’ll die. We can deal with his disapproval later. Find Octavia, send someone with her. Jasper,” she said, figuring that Jasper was unthreatening enough that the Grounder wouldn’t be off-put, but was able to defend himself and Octavia if something went wrong.  
Miller nodded, gave a concerned look to Bellamy, and walked out of the ship. When Clarke was sure she was alone, she knelt down next to Bellamy’s head.  
“Bell, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, so’s Octavia. I’m sorry for sending her, but she’s the only one who could get it.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, which was burning with fever, and let a tear slip down her cheek. She cleared her throat and turned away from him, embarrassed, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. The sweat on his forehead caught her attention, and she distracted herself with wiping it off with the wet cloth. 

\---

The atmosphere of the room was peaceful. Bellamy hadn’t stirred since his seizure, and Clarke was finally getting a bit of sleep until Octavia burst into the room with Jasper and Miller following. She was holding a vial and was shoving it into Clarke’s hands, who was almost too tired to understand what it was.  
“You got it?” She asked, looking at Octavia with wide eyes.  
“Darling Octavia cut her hand and poisoned herself. Grounder wouldn’t let her die,” Jasper filled in while he threw an arm over her shoulder. Clarke looked down at Octavia’s hand, which she quickly pulled away into a fist.  
“I knew he’d give it to us,” Octavia said with a shrug, nudging Jasper.  
Clarke pulled open the little bottle and slowly tipped a few drops into Bellamy’s mouth before passing it back to Octavia. “You need to take it.”  
Octavia, who looked like she had forgotten about the antidote for herself, took a sip of it then winced. “Bitter. He said he’d wake up soon,” she continued, looking down at Bellamy.  
Clarke nodded. “Did anything happen? Did you see any other grounders?” She asked, looking between the three.  
“No one else. He seemed to be alone,” Miller said, speaking for the first time since they got back. “Are we gonna tell Bellamy we let Octavia go to see him?” He directed his question at Clarke.  
“I’ll tell him. You don’t have to be included,” she said. “You didn’t want her to go.”  
“Hello, I’m right here. I’ll tell him myself. He can’t do anything about it,” Octavia said, standing up for herself, holding herself higher.  
“Do anything about what?” The voice was husky and low, and Clarke turned to see Bellamy sitting up on the table. Her face flooded with relief, the corners of her mouth twitching up and her eyes going wide. She took a big step towards him and wrapped him in a hug, tucking her face into his neck. “Princess. I’m okay.”  
She let out a laugh as she felt Octavia’s arms wrap around him from the back. “Hey, big brother,” Octavia said softly.  
“Hey, O,” Bellamy replied. “What are we not telling me about?” He asked when they both pulled back and looked between the four of them.  
Clarke took a step forward and opened her mouth, but Octavia gave her a stern look. “I went back to the Grounder who stabbed you. Got the antidote. It’s fine.”  
Bellamy’s shoulders pushed back and he looked between everyone in the room like he wanted to say something, but ultimately decided against it. “I’ll… I’ll deal with that later. I want to know everything that happened while I was gone.” He was looking at Clarke now, who was still looking in wonderment at him.  
“Raven managed to fix the radio,” she said. Bellamy recalled fuzzy memories that mentioned the radio, remembered a new voice, but they were overshadowed with pain.  
“We talked to the Ark?”  
“We did. My mom walked me through fixing you,” she explained, and Bellamy nodded. Clarke had mentioned on their drunk night in the forest that her mom was a doctor, and she was studying to be one.  
“There was a storm, but we’re cleaning up. I talked to Jaha. They have an exodus ship, and they’re gonna start sending people down. We’re gonna have help,” Clarke said with a smile. “I sat in on a council meeting while you were out. Winter’s coming, and we’re gonna freeze and starve if we’re not prepared. They found coordinates for a bomb shelter about a day’s walk from here, and I’m going. If you’re feeling better, you should come too.”  
“How long was I even out?” Bellamy asked when he realized that he wasn’t in that much pain anymore.  
“A few days,” Octavia said. “Clarke barely left your side the whole time.” She glanced between them, suspicious of whatever was happening. When Bellamy looked back at Clarke, she was looking at the ground.  
“You should be feeling better. My mom said that, since the blade wasn’t so deep, you should be able to make the trip with me if you take it easy. It’ll be good to get back on your feet,” she said.  
Bellamy nodded. “I need to talk to Clarke alone for a minute,” he said, and Octavia gave him another look before leaving with Miller and Jasper. When they all left the dropship, Bellamy opened his arms and Clarke took a step forwards into them.  
“We’re in the clear now. You’re safe,” she said into his shoulder, and he just held her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  
“We have to deal with the Grounder,” he said reluctantly. Clarke moved to pull away, to discuss strategy, but Bellamy held on a little. “Another minute. Is that okay?” He pulled back just enough to look at her, to ask for permission to hug her, and she just leaned into him again. She was kissing him, wrapping her arms around him, trying to get as close to him as she could. He had been so close to dying, to leave her alone to lead. There was no way she would let that happen.  
“Princess. I’m okay. You just said I was,” he said between kisses, trying to calm her down.  
“I know. I know you are. I don’t want to lose you.”  
“You never will,” he answered, peppering kisses on and next to her mouth. His hands were around her waist and she leaned against him. “Do you think I’m healed enough for…” he trailed off shyly, a blush growing over his freckled cheeks, and Clarke smiled, a mixture of soft and devilish.  
“I think so, if you lay back and let me take care of you.”  
He sucked in a breath and looked up at her, lips pink and plump, eyes dark, staring back at him. Bellamy drew her closer and lay her down on top of him. He let himself go, allowed himself to feel good after the pain, let himself be with the girl he cared so much about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: seizure (what happened to Finn from the stabbing), references to sex (nothing explicit at all).


End file.
